


draw me close

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: tumblr fics & ficlets, part ii. [22]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Drinking, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 09:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14041017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: More so than the history oozing out of every building, what makes London so different from Los Angeles is that it’s fuckingcold.(or, while walking back to the hotel after wrapping up at the Viaduct Tavern, Shane does his best to keep Ryan warm.)





	draw me close

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [DarkAliceLilith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAliceLilith/gifts).



> I was lucky enough to get the prompt ""Are you flirting with me? + Shane/Ryan” from two separate people, and I had a stupid work day today, so here's some fluff!
> 
> takes place after the Viaduct Tavern episode (because how fucking much did those two drink during filming?). title from [Warmth](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1idDZ3QHEPs) by Bastille.

It’s safe to say that getting drunk hadn’t exactly been part of Ryan’s plan for the evening.

Sure, when he’d been planning the Viaduct Tavern episode out, he’d wanted there to be at least one sequence with them having a pint, just as a fun bit, and when he’d initially pitched the idea to Shane, he’d been totally down for it. 

Except one drink had somehow turned into two. And then three. And then six. 

And now, it’s nearly three o’clock in the morning, and while the world isn’t exactly swaying, it’s a little fuzzy around the edges. The crew are already back at the hotel, probably already fast asleep, but as they’d been packing up, Shane had had the bright idea to walk back, and even though Ryan had been looking forward to room service and a soft mattress (and, maybe, another beer), once Shane had smiled at him, he'd been unable to say no.

And really, it’s actually quite a nice night. The streets are fairly quiet, although gales of raucous laughter fall out of every pub and tavern they pass, and distant sirens occasionally split the night. When he glances up, if he squints really hard, he can almost make out the stars through the faint orange haze of light pollution swathed across the sky. As they continue to walk, he can’t help but notice how the city is both similar and totally unlike Los Angeles. There’s enough construction cranes dotting the skyline, enough buildings strapped with scaffolding and tarps flapping in the slight breeze, that he could almost pretend he was at home, if he was a little more drunk, but there’s so much _history_ here. Every other building seems to have a plaque announcing that it was the scene of some grand historical event, has the year it was built carved into a stone above the entrance-way. Even the streets look old, although Ryan is sure the cobblestones aren’t actually the authentic thing and are probably just there for the tourists to ooh and aah over. 

But even more so than the history oozing out of every building, what makes London so different from Los Angeles is that it’s fucking _cold_. There’s a chill wind that keeps making its way down the back of Ryan’s neck, keeps cutting through his jacket and shirt. The hand that he has jammed into the pocket of his jeans is almost an acceptable temperature, but the one that’s entangled with Shane’s is actually starting to hurt from being exposed to the breeze.

And they’re still twenty minutes away from the goddamn hotel, if what Ryan’s phone says is correct.

“I’m fucking freezing,” he says, shivering as another gust of wind slams into him. Shane immediately comes to a stop and glances down at him. 

“I told you to wear more layers,” he says with a slight frown. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t listen,” Ryan mutters, using their intertwined hands to lightly punch Shane on the outside of his thigh. Shane continues to stand there motionless for a moment, silhouetted against the dark mouth of a narrow alleyway, remains still long enough that Ryan feels the urge to tug insistently at his hand and get this show back on the road. 

Finally, just when he’s about to ask Shane what the hold-up is about, ask if he’s fallen asleep on his feet, Shane slides his fingers out of Ryan’s grip and starts carefully unwinding the gray scarf wrapped around his neck. He’s so meticulous about it, does it so slowly, than Ryan knows he’s past the point of being tipsy and is officially drunk. 

Not that Ryan’s judging. He’s pretty sure he’s tripped a dozen times since they left the tavern, probably would have ended up either on his ass or his face in the street if it hadn’t been for Shane’s grip on his hand. 

Shane pulls the scarf free, revealing a faint series of splotchy bruises along the base of his throat that Ryan put there earlier in the day. With the same meticulous, overly precise movements, he winds the scarf around Ryan’s neck until it’s bunched up underneath his chin. 

Ryan can’t help but feel a little like a kid again, all bundled up for the few times they’d gone on vacation somewhere cold enough to get actual snow, but the scarf immediately makes a difference. 

“Better?” Shane asks, tucking the ends of the scarf into the front of Ryan's jacket. 

“Yeah, man. Thanks.” Shane smiles at him softly and takes Ryan’s hand again, but he doesn’t start walking immediately. Instead, he simply glances up at the faintly glowing sky and at the quiet street around them.

“Man, it really is beautiful here, isn’t it?” he asks, squeezing Ryan’s hand and swaying a little. 

Ryan isn't sure if he agrees; the street itself isn’t that impressive in the grand scheme of things. All the shops are dark, and there’s a boarded-up building directly across from them that’s marred up with colorful graffiti. There’s some trash in the gutter, and the unmistakable glint of broken glass twinkles under a streetlight a few yards away. 

But if there’s one thing he appreciates about Shane, has appreciated about him since before their friendship transitioned into something more, it’s that he has an innate ability to find beauty in the strangest, most unconventional (and occasionally outright horrifying) things. 

There’s no one within sight, so Ryan doesn’t think twice before he wraps his fingers into the front of Shane’s jacket, leans up and kisses him. Shane’s smile melts away, but only so that his mouth can fit better to Ryan’s, and he drops his big hands to Ryan’s face a little clumsily, cradles his jaw like he’s trying to protect it from harm. Ryan wasn’t planning on the kiss being much more than a peck, but when Shane’s tongue brushes against his bottom lip, it just seems _cruel_ to pull away so soon. 

By the time they do pull away from each other, they’ve somehow managed to stumble back a few steps, so that Shane’s back is flush with the brick wall of a restaurant that's closed for the night, and Ryan is feeling a little warmer and slightly breathless. 

Absently leaning down to nudge his nose against one of the pink marks on Shane’s throat, he says, “Think you could warm me up some more when we get back to the hotel?” Shane gasps like it’s the most scandalous thing he’s ever heard and presses his mouth to Ryan’s temple.

“Ryan Bergara, are you _flirting_ with me?” 

Normally, Ryan would go along with the bit, would probably end up creating some kind of complicated backstory set in the 1800’s, but even with the flush warming him up, he’s still cold, and he still really wants to get into a bed sooner rather than later, so instead, he answers, “I sure fucking hope so.”

Shane laughs quietly and rubs one thumb along the line of Ryan’s cheekbone, and even though Ryan wants to move, he can’t help but melt into the touch, can't help but crane his cheek into it. 

“Good thing I like it.” Pressing one last kiss to the top of Ryan’s head, he steps away from the wall and reaches down to take Ryan’s hand again. “Let’s get you back before you shiver your teeth right out of your mouth.” 

Ryan flips him off with his free hand. 

(By the time they finally make it back to the fucking hotel, Ryan is freezing again. 

Thankfully, Shane follows through on his promise to warm him up. 

Twice.)

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
